Her large eyes flickered left and right, watching as everyone began separating into two groups: one evidently traveling upon land, the second flying upon the backs of large feathered creatures. Nobody paid much heed to the girl as she hunched her shoulders, her hands worrying the ends of her coarse tunic. Her face pale and small, she began inching towards the group of men, getting ready to depart on foot.

“I think I’ll wal-“

Before her sentence finished, Forgal marched past her, reaching out to grab her arm, but hesitating mere seconds before his hand actually touched her skin. Both hunter and lass froze, their breaths collectedly drawn and held as they stared at his hand like a foreign object. He came to first; a look of disgust flashing across his face, as he changed his gesture into a rough come-hither wave.

T’was not till the man stomped away, did Qtchi release her breath in a tiny sigh of relief. Carefully keeping an arm’s length apart, she slinked behind him, as silent as his shadow that elongated itself across the dirt.

Reaching the griffon’s side, the man gave her no time to gather her wits, and the girl was unceremoniously lifted off her feet and half-thrown over the back of the large creature. With her arms stiff upon her side, Qtchi resigned herself to letting Forgal tighten the straps around her in flight preparation. With one final tug, the silent man faced forward and gave a word of command; they began making their way into the skies again.

Qtchi studied the back of the man’s neck.
He did have particularly nice veins…

With a rush of wind, the hippogriff jaunted into the skies once again. All but a handful of the original escort party were left. Forgal had lost good men, no... he had lost good friends. Fellow Hunters that could never be replaced. Those who survived could only manage to give them a rough burial, finding what they could of their bodies (or what was left of them) in the darkness, and setting it ablaze that their bodies may return to dust; lest scavengers defile them. Forgal's eyes hardened, setting his gaze forward as they followed behind the ghostlike form of the lead Roc.

Clearing the tree tops, both riders were suddenly bathed in pure soft moonlight as elfaron shone down upon them. As if her heart was saddened by their loss, she wept a thousand tears, their glittering luminescence sparkling all over the dark heavens. Sighing inwardly, Forgal thought he heard a faint cry like that of a Roc. But it did not come from the front. Glancing to his left, the Hunter's eyes widened as dozens of grayish shadows materialized out of the tree tops. A silver rider or two atop each one. A peek to his right showed the same thing. More of the Eldanin... the Hunter began to wonder what awaited them in Telethos.

***

If a city had a gender, Telethos would be female. An old widow. A woman who has lived long and lost much. A mother that had to endure the loss of her children, right in front of her very eyes. A mother who grieved the loss of her loved ones, but was never allowed rest from her torment; for her enemies were ever present. Waiting for her to let her guard down.

Despite the odds, she still struggled to live on. Despite the odds, she continued to live on in the hopes that someday, things will change. That someday, with her enemies defeated, all will be made new again.

The Eldanin host pressed on through the night. Great arcane winds fueled the beasts, pushing them ever forward, allowing them to cover huge distances in the blink of an eye. Trees and hills, mountains and rocks, all passed by in an instant. A great silvery trail remained as the only constant feature; her elegant curves winding through the forests beneath them. A wide rushing river it was. The Eldanin called her the Sirei Elemmire, the Telethosians called it the Silver River. Pressing on, a small mountain range appeared to their left, its ominous presence barring their way to the east. It was not until theiy cleared then mountain range that they realized it was almost dawn. The light from the rising sun, no longer obstructed by the mountains temporarily blinded Forgal as the host turned away from the Elemmire and headed east. It was after blinking several times that he finally could see enough to behold the wintery landscape of the North. They had long ago passed the last of the trees and all he could see was a harsh plain. It was only when one of the Eldanin pulled out a horn to let out a low pitched call, which was answered in the distance, that Forgal caught sight of the city.

Built halfway into the mountains with a man-made river leading up to it's side, the Hunter wondered why he didn't see it before. The host had already begun ascending into the harsher winds of the heights in order to clear the towering walls of the city. As they passed over the thick battlements, a distant horn sounded once again. This time, a beacon of fire flared on the eastern part of the city; it's light guiding the host through the winter blizzard. Glancing down, Forgal observed run-down houses. Some had been so thoroughly ruined that it was clearly inhabitable. Evidence of a past battle could be seen littering the remnants of the city.

Sitting astride his hippogriff as the host swerved among some tall buildings and towers, Forgal's training in the arts of scouting naturally led him to scrutinize his surroundings more carefully. The outer walls, probably as wide as nine horses standing side by side and five times that at the base, was hardly damaged. They appeared to be of dwarven design, hewn out of some gray stone and stood about a hundred meters high. Though patrols could be seen tending to the battlements they were scarce in number; unusual for a city under siege. Despite the condition of the walls, most of the houses they passed were badly damaged, a clear indication that the enemy had broken through from the gates and into the city itself. The flicker of an occasional fire shining out from the cracks of windows told him that this same enemy had been driven back far enough that people had begun to inhabit the houses once again.

From what he had seen of the size of the city, Forgal assumed the original population to be around two thirds that of the Mountain Kingdoms; or slightly less than the living population of Vitheka. Nevertheless, the war had probably reduced that by a significant amount. A tattered flag bearing a symbol of a winged dagger fluttered in the gale as they passed a rugged fortress-like building. Flying on, the host passed over a lower wall and came upon a curious section of the city. Much like the previous one, most of the buildings were in a bad condition or perhaps worse. Amongst the ruins, were huge tents. Most were bigger than the average house. Made out of some light brown material, they hardly wavered in the rushing wind. Shimmering glyphs dotted the dome shaped tents, their dull light barely visible in the falling snow.

Distracted, Forgal almost overtook the others when they suddenly began descending. Instead of stopping infront of a tent, their guides headed towards what seemed like a temple. Pillars of white stone bordering a cobbled courtyard, the temple once belonged to an unknown order within Telethos. As it was one of the few buildings left untouched by the fight, the Elds decided to make use of it. Following the Mage's lead, Forgal landed his mount with the other Hunter's following suit. Despite their early arrival, several of the Eldanin appeared from one of the doorways to help with the Rocs. The Hunter narrowed his eyes when none came to help them. Instead, the Elds were carefully averting their eyes as if he were but a rock by the roadside.

Teetering his mount to a nearby pillar, he looked up as the Eld called Sylianna approached them. It seemed as if she was the only one who acknowledged their presence.

"Come." She stated simply and turned to follow the mage as he headed into the temple. Walking through the hallways, the human noticed that most of the Eldanin he passed were female. All were dressed in simple white robes, like that of an acolyte, and wore a circlet of moonstones around their foreheads. Contrary to the others, they did not seem to be purposefully ignoring the party of humans. Most seemed to be rushing about on an errand but some stopped to give them an acknowledging nod. By the time they caught up to the mage, he had carried Iridris into a healing room, laid her on a bed and was pouring some dark liquid down her throat. Finished, he stood up and muttered something to Sylianna before sweeping out of the room.

Syl sighed as she gazed at Iridris, the latter's face now serene as if she slumbered peacefully, before she turned back to the others.
"She will be fine now... the poison though deadly from where you come from, is a common substance here in the North." Her eyes shifted, as if she were unsure of what to do or say.

The final leg of the flight to Telethos was without tension, as uncertainty continued to keep the alert level high. Captain Adeimar, shifting slightly in the saddle atop his winged mount, felt quite at home above the chaos of the ground several kilometers below. This was the farthest north he had ever traveled, and even the atmospheric conditions proved foreign to the seasoned SkyGuard. Careful balance allowed Gabriel to slip on a heavy, bearskin overcoat which would mostly avert the bite of the never-ending cold. Turning to check the contents of a leather pouch strapped along the side of his saddle, the Captain grimaced at the shortage of rations on hand and hoped that the City would be sufficient enough to restock for a return journey to the Mountain Kingdom.

If such a thing truly existed…

Telethos was a sight indeed, despite the destruction which left a great scar on a once beautiful creation. As with the Mountain Kingdom and its surrounding constructs, much of the structure of Telethos was of Dwarven design. It brought a semblance of familiarity and comfort to eyes that have been away from home too long, but the many tents that lined much of the northern section of Telethos only served as a reminder that even the greatest works fall eventually. Gabriel nodded in assurance to his skyrider, Thomas, who appeared disenchanted. The loss of so many within a short time span could, at times, break the morale of even the strongest willed warriors. No one with a heart to serve life can truly be content with such a massive disregard for it.

The troupe, following closely behind the two dragon-folk beings, descended toward a temple and onto an open courtyard surrounded by large pillars of stone. It didn’t appear that the residents of the temple paid too much attention to any but the two hosts. Gabriel could see the bewilderment across Forgal’s face, a reaction that the SkyGuard Captain shared for a moment.

“We’re strangers in their land, brother.” Gabriel mentioned in a mid-tone of voice to the leader of the hunters, who landed only a few meters away. “Don’t allow their apprehensive behavior to detract you from the reasons we’re here.”

The SkyGuard Captain, acknowledging the woman Syliana call, dismounted and followed them toward the interior of the temple. The majority of the inhabitants they passed while trailing behind the Eldanin mages, were female, dressed in robes which indicated they may be keepers of the temple or acolytes. Each of them, out of courtesy no doubt, gave a simple nod as they passed by the newcomers of their city.

The lead mage, who had been caring for the fallen elven, Iridris, during the flight to the city, brought her into what appeared to be a medical room of sorts. There, she was laid on a bed and attended to. Syliana, satisfied with the healing process, assured the rest of the troupe that the Lady Iridris would survive, as the poison seemed to be more common in the North and their healers were prepared.

With a sense of calm washed over him, Captain Adeimar gave a customary salute to the dragon-folk Syliana.

“Thank you for your haste. What can we now do for you and your people?...”

As usual, the young necromancer didnae speak as they soared through the skies, towards their final destination. Unbiddingly, the final scenes of their recent battle crossed her mind and a small shudder went through the girl’s frame. Her fingers gripped the leather harness tightly as she recalled the instant she lifted into the air. Never before, was she faced with the inability to defend herself; T’was not the fear of flying that made the girl tremble - but the failure of reciprocation should an enemy retaliate in the air.

The ground was where her source of power lie; it is there the necromancer could sense the buried dead and feel the energies deep within the mundane earth. In flight, the hushed whispers of lost souls, was replaced by the whistling wind of the chilly atmosphere. Though the young girl would’ve welcomed the silence at one point in time, she now found the loss unnerving and discomforting.

She closed her eyes and forced her mind onto where they were headed.

How have the people been defending themselves? What remained of Telethos? Would anyone recognize her?

So many questions troubled her young mind, yet as they descended and Qtchi slowly opened her eyes and found herself speechless. Her troubled gaze stared at the barren grounds and at the smatter of houses that leaned against the base of the mountains; t’was hard for the girl to realize this was all that was left of the bustling city she had left in the past. Her grip tightened and she continued to view the ruined buildings with a solemn silence.

The men were already dismounting, when the girl unbuckled the leather straps and simply slumped off the hippogriff, meeting the ground in a weak stagger. Rolling her shoulders back, the girl wearily stretched and drew in the mountain air, her eyes searching through the dense crowd for her companions. She caught sight of Iridris’ prone figure, still held by their hosts and began approaching, relishing the feel of the steady ground beneath her feet.

With reserve, the lass found herself following the Eldanin’s deeper into the temple where they brought the elf to rest. Even as Captain Adeimar spoke, her eyes continued to look at the poisoned victim upon the bed.”Tell me this - had Siernan returned?” She asked out loud, her voice soft, but audible in the calm of the healing room. Her gaze slowly left that of the Iridris’ slumbering face and matched that of Sylianna’s…

“Thank you for your haste. What can we now do for you and your people?...”

Sylianna turned her head to regard the human even as her mouth opened to speak, but whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by that of another.

”Tell me this - had Siernan returned?”

The Eld's silvery orbs grew in intensity as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Si-Siernan?! Y-Yes... H-How do you know...? Returned? From the Southlands? From the South..." Almost abruptly, as if on a sudden insight the woman's demeanor changed from one of surprise to one of comprehending.
"Siernan... He must have told you of Telethos then!? That means he has succeeded? But... he is not with you...? What did you...?" A flurry of questions burst forth from Syl's lips before she could check herself. With a sigh, she took a deep breath before continuing in a more measured tone.
"I-I'm sorry... it must be too much to ask... I... I'll explain it to you as best I can..."
"As you would already know, Telethos is in aid of warriors to defend her city... Siernan was our last hope in seeking aid. He... He was the best Telethos had... and from what I've learnt, served her almost as long as he lived. The Eldanin... my people, are a proud race... B-But this foolish pride has blinded them! "We do not need help..." he said. How can he not see that we very much do need all the help we can get?!" At the sudden outburst, Syl's voice changed in tone, but she quickly let it pass.

"A-Anyway, Siernan was due to meet up with a scouting party from Telethos a few months back... but he did not appear. For weeks, Telethos had been sending out scouts... risking their lives for this one glimmer of hope. The Magista and I, we were the last round... I guess, I cannot but fear the worse for him since he is not with you. But the stars, they brought you here! There must be a reason behind this!" In her eagerness she almost forgot about the recovering elf, until a moan escaped Iridris' lips.

Glancing down, Syl felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. "Oh... I'm sorry! It was a rough journey, so soon after that fight... you all should find rest. I... I'll find someone to bring you to your rooms. We will speak more of this after your rest and when your... friend awakes."

***

Soft sheets of sunlight broke through the overcast skies to skim the tips of a tree in the middle of the temple courtyard. From afar, the tree appeared barren and dead, devoid of any fruit or leaves. That is, until one looked at it up close and observed the shimmering prisma of lights that filtered through glass like leaves. Transparent and light, they seemed almost ethereal. Iridris thought.

Dressed in similar garb to that of the priestesses, she sat on a stony bench watching the fleeting rays of sunlight cascade over the Hoghast Tree. Hoghast, yes... that was what that lady, Syliannastrasza told her. Sylianna... the eldanin... Telethos... The last thing Iridris remembered was walking alongside Qtchi, then they were attacked... and now, she was in Telethos... for some peculiar reason, nothing seemed to surprise her.